


(Pressed Against) The Bathroom Sink

by Yesimawriter



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Training, Bathroom Sex, Crying, Decently hygienic bathroom and sink, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Time, Gratuitous mentions of bathroom sinks, Heavy Angst, Like an excessively dramatic Mexican telenovela, Lots of Crying, M/M, Pining, Sex, Sexual Tension, Smoking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-05-28 21:42:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 21,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15058409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yesimawriter/pseuds/Yesimawriter
Summary: Potter didn’t make a single noise, only thrusted, his eyes as inexpressive during sex as they were expressive in everything else. But in this, they were not. Perhaps because everything else Potter loved, he was passionate about, but in this, about Draco, he was not.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I would like to thank my beta who was Lord Voldemort himself. That's right, I appreciate The Dark Lord bringing himself back to life to beta this. Thank you for the favour!
> 
> I also appreciate the support and love of the mods and want to thank them for organising this fest. I am very excited and feel privileged to be a part of it. 
> 
> The song I chose was Strange Love by Halsey and it was prompted by drqcopotter. I want to thank you for prompting this song because it's definitely one of my favourites and I hope I managed to do your prompt justice!
> 
> There is an additional end note that I would like for everyone to read because it's very important and I feel like it's something that has to be said.

It started off in the worst way possible. They were both hurting, both facing the brunt of the side effects from the war both feeling the wrath of their emotions and the choices they had made.

They were both locked in the same bathroom again, but this time, Potter had Draco pressed against the bathroom sink, he had his hands slipping into his hair and he could feel it, could feel the moan trembling in his throat.

Draco’s eyes were closed, and his wand was tight and hard and in his trousers, this one of a different kind. The desperation showed, tension was palpable, and his need and want for Potter were already known.

That was why Potter had him trapped after a particularly grueling training session, in a bathroom so far away from the rest of the trainees, who were relaxing in their rooms in those moments, while Draco and Potter were willing to go another round.

It wasn’t as if they hadn’t known that they’d end up here. It wasn’t as if they’d both been subtle or anything short of extremely obvious in their glances or looks or…gestures. It wasn’t as if they’d ever been any different, even back at Hogwarts.

The tension between them had built and built up through weeks of Auror training and it had led to this—to Draco being sandwiched between Potter and a decently clean sink as if some sort of a delicious patty between two burger buns.

It had led to Draco’s lips being pressed against Potter’s, feeling as if he were high on amphetamines, his hardened member pressing through his trousers against Potter’s which was equally so. Draco’s hands drifted along Potter’s body and froze, their lips parting as Draco let out a gasp.

Potter’s hand had unzipped his trousers. It had pushed them down and now Potter was on his knees. Draco struggled to stand upright, his hands tightly gripping the edges of the sink as if holding on for dear life.

Potter’s lips, his tongue, teased and licked and took in all of Draco, making noises he’d never even thought he was capable of, emerge from his lips. It made him lose his mind and feel as though he were on the brink of insanity.

He collapsed as he spilled all of himself into Potter’s mouth, watching Potter swallow him and take him in, knowing that it was his turn next to do the same, but in a different way.

Both their trousers were pulled down all the way, as they stood facing each other. Draco felt the warmth of the stretching charm cast on him, a sharp contrast to the coolness of the sink, against his skin.

He could feel Harry’s cock at his entrance, he was prepared. But then Potter entered him and Draco realised that he wasn’t, he was not prepared and he never had been.

* * *

 

Harry pushed and stumbled through the crowd, contemplating using his popularity so that they would make way for him to pass through. He didn’t. He just kept pushing through them, the swarm of people getting denser the closer he got to the entrance of the Ministry.

As he finally pushed through the door and entered into the building, he took a deep breath, letting himself enjoy the fresh air and the lack of the people around him. He knew why there were so many of them crowded outside and a lot less on the inside.

It was the first day of Auror training. Outside the Ministry stood the freshers who had failed, not been accepted or now wanted a chance to get into the training program. Inside the building, were the ones who had.

He entered the training room and promptly froze because of the first face he saw there. It was familiar, more than just familiar in fact.

Harry had expected a lot of familiar faces to show up, but one that he had never even thought of seeing again was Malfoy’s. Malfoy stood straight and poised, eyes ahead, never wavering, and that slight hint of an arrogant smirk on his face.

Harry had flashbacks to Madam Malkin’s and the first time he had met Malfoy. Malfoy had been standing in that same position and had only looked over at Harry when Madam Malkin had ushered Harry over to stand next to him.

He wondered if that would work this time. Would Malfoy still make small talk if Harry went to stand next to him, or would the tension and the awkward silence between them slowly start to fill up the entire room and end up suffocating them?

Harry didn’t know, and he wasn’t sure if he was willing to find out yet.

One by one, the other Aurors-in-training began to make their way into the room. Harry shifted from one foot to the other, adjusting the collar of his shirt and methodically trying to pull up his sleeves as the number of people and the magnitude of noise in the room increased.

He felt a breath of relief leaving his body at Ron being one of those people.

 “Harry, there you are, mate!” Harry smiled as Ron greeted him with an enthusiastic pat on the back. “Sorry for taking so long and making you wait. ‘Mione and I got a little held up,” Ron added, apologetically.

Ron and Harry had originally planned to arrive for their first day of training together, but Hermione had insisted that she and Ron spend some time alone before they did. Harry had agreed to it, immediately understanding and offering to go on his own. Ron had blushed and stuttered but had looked at Harry thankfully, and that was all it had taken for Harry to know that he’d made the right decision.

“Did she get emotional or did you? Did you both get emotional? I bet you cried,” Harry teased.

Ron glared at him and then sighed, looking down as he pushed his fingers through his hair. “We both did, and ‘Mione cried so I might have started crying too.”

Harry stifled a snort and tried to hide his urge to laugh, but the resigned look on Ron’s face was too precious not to laugh at. “Of course you did,” Harry said as he burst out laughing.

“Mate!” Ron exclaimed, almost hissing. He looked around to make sure no one else had been listening in on their conversation before he clonked Harry on the back of his head.

“Ow,” Harry said, the remainder of his laughter showing in his smile, as he rubbed the back of his head. He instinctively glanced over at Malfoy from the corner of his eyes and his gaze lingered on him.

To anyone else, Malfoy would seem unperturbed, undisturbed and unaffected by the change in his surroundings and the palpable tension that lay around him as people slowly began to notice him. It was only Harry who could see the way Malfoy’s shoulders were tense, grey eyes boring into his own before they darted away quickly.

Nobody else noticed the way his hands twitched slightly, before his fingers drummed against the sides of his waist, and the way he turned to meet Harry’s eyes, before quickly turning back and looking away, biting at the side of his lip. Harry found himself doing the same, biting lightly into his own lip as his chest rose and fell heavily.

* * *

 

The sharp echoes of his voice were restricted to the inside of the bathroom, barred from going outside by the silencing charm around them. Potter didn’t make a single noise, only thrusted, his eyes as inexpressive during sex as they were expressive in everything else. But in this, they were not.

Perhaps because everything else Potter loved, he was passionate about, but in this, about Draco, he was not.

“Draco,” he spoke, his voice as hoarse as his fingers were coarse. “I’m going to-” He shuddered. Potter’s face was buried in Draco’s shoulder, his hands holding Draco’s waist almost bruisingly.

Draco ached from the inside out as his eyes fluttered momentarily shut, feeling the pace of Potter’s thrusts and moving with the same rhythm. He could feel Potter breathing into his shirt, could feel his heat, his warmth, mingling with Draco’s own. He could feel the rising and falling of Potter’s chest and of his own.

He opened his eyes and looked at Potter. He looked at Potter’s messy, black hair sprawled all over his shoulder, looked down at his body, which fit perfectly against Draco’s. He thought of the way he felt about him, the way he felt when he heard Potter say his name in that hoarse, sex-drenched voice, and he ached again.

“Do it,” he said, his own voice soft and flowing like honey. Sweet, fond. “Let go, Potter,” he whispered.

He could feel his own muscles clenching, could feel Potter pushing up against him, going harder. He could feel his heart rate soaring up high, could feel his own mouth moving as it chanted a repetitive, continuous chain of “Potter, Potter, Potter.”

“Draco,” Potter breathed and Draco suddenly felt his warmth spilling inside him. He closed his eyes as his hands slipped from the edge of the sink and his knees buckled under him.

Potter collapsed with him, and they were both a tangled heap on the floor. Draco’s hands were spread out across the floor, his knees under Potter’s and head bent towards Potter’s body, hair falling on his face.

Potter was sleeping on the floor, his hands lightly resting on Draco’s hips. His eyes were on Draco with not a hint of emotion in them. Nothing. His lips were pursed tightly. He gave no indication of having felt a thing, of this being his first time, just like Draco’s.

Draco guessed it wouldn’t be surprising to find out that Potter had done this before, with many a willing participants. The thought made Draco feel sick to his stomach.

“I think we should,” Potter said, pointing to their legs, “sort out this mess.”

Draco agreed.        

They were out of the loo and walking in opposite directions in mere minutes. Draco bit his lip and turned around to glance at Potter’s general form, walking away from him. The ache in his heart grew.

* * *

 

Ron nudged him in the ribs this time and when Harry raised an eyebrow questioningly, Ron whispered, “You were staring at Malfoy.”

Harry opened his mouth and closed it, swallowing down the words that wanted to rise out of his throat. They were all going to be petty lies and pathetic excuses anyway.

“Welcome,” said a man who stood in front of them all, “to your first day of Auror Training. My name is Peter Gringells and I will be teaching you combat training.”

Harry heard a few voices around him rising, and a jab or two made at ‘Gringells’ but other than that, nobody else dared to speak or even take their eyes off of the man.

“Now I know most of you may be thinking about why we would need such a muggle method of training-” Gringells paused. Harry saw him looking meaningfully at Malfoy, and he suddenly felt the need to protest, but he had no reason to. Gringells continued “-but magic is unreliable, and at times unstable.”

“Your body,” Gringells said, his eyes blazing now, “is the only thing that you can rely on. Your physical capabilities and capacities will be just as important as your mental ones or ones that include the use of magic and your wands.”

Gringells’ eyes fell on Malfoy again and Harry felt a little annoyed on his behalf. “You’re the Malfoy kid, right?” he asked. Malfoy maintained eye contact and nodded his head. “Well then, why don’t you come up here to the front and let me give everyone a demonstration?”

The room was suddenly drowned with excited voices and cheers and Gringells looked absolutely delighted about what he was about to do. One thing that seemed a given in the room was what this demonstration would entail.

Harry’s eyes were drawn to Malfoy—his posture, although seeming placid to most, indicated that he was clearly aggravated.

Harry didn’t even realise that he had stepped up and spoken until he had.

“Auror Gringells, would it be okay if I went instead? I’m really curious about this demonstration and would love to be a part of it.”

This caused an obvious uproar in the crowd around him, but Harry only noticed the way Draco’s eyes were stuck on him, widening just a fraction after he’d finished speaking.

“Harry,” Ron called out to him, “I think Gringells wants you to go to him.”

Sure enough, Gringells was motioning to Harry and ushering him forwards. He seemed almost disappointed, probably about the fact that he wouldn’t be able to go as hard as he’d originally been planning to.

“Good luck, mate,” Ron said with a pat on Harry’s back before he pushed him forwards.

Harry swallowed down the bile rising up his throat as he walked forward, feeling dizzy at the thought of being vulnerable and on display in front of such a large audience.

As Harry stopped and stood facing him, Gringells pulled his wand out and dropped it on the floor, letting it roll to the edge of the room. Harry decided to do the same, putting his own wand on a desk that had been pushed to the side.

“Are you ready, Mr. Potter?” Gringells asked, standing in a fighting stance. Harry parted his own legs, bringing his hands up in fists, ready to defend his face and body.

“I am,” he said with a nod.

He realised what a bad idea it had been for him to volunteer on behalf of Malfoy the moment Auror Gringells took a step towards him. His stance was aggressive, posture clearly stating that he was looking to do physical damage, and his eyes steely.

When he attacked, it wasn’t Auror Gringells Harry saw delivering the attack, it was Vernon Dursley. Harry blocked the attack reflexively and he could in a faraway distance, hear the rest of the Aurors-in-training clapping and cheering for him.

The attack Gringells had pulled had been a complicated one which should have made it difficult for Harry to shield himself from it, but Harry was running on a different level than Gringells was. His heart was in his throat, beating erratically, feeling like it was choking him, pumping too much blood through his veins.

Gringells took another a step towards him, ready to fight again, Harry fought him back. His fighting wasn’t anything like the skilled, precise attacks delivered by the Auror fighting him. Harry was quick to defend, not even daring to make a move to attack and stepping backward with each one of his moves until his back hit the wall.

He froze, knowing he had been trapped into a corner, and all he could see was Vernon’s face. All he could hear was his disgusting voice, his grabby hands tightening their grip on Harry as they pulled him away from the corner he’d backed up into.

 _“I’ve got you now, boy,”_ Vernon’s voice echoed through Harry's head, _“You might be skinny and fast, but I’ve got the smarts, and you’ve nowhere to run to. Everyone who cared about you is dead.”_

* * *

 

A knock on the door woke him up from slumber. Green eyes piercing into his when he finally opened it, made sure that he was wide awake.

Potter’s hands were in fists, a cigarette butt pressed in between two fingers. There was smoke still blowing from it, the smell permeating the air.

He smelt it on Potter as Potter closed the door behind him and stepped into Draco’s personal space.

He smelt it as Potter said, “I need you, Draco.”

He smelt it when Potter took a final smoke from his cigarette before letting it fall to the ground and stepping his foot on it. He felt it, the smoke, filling up his lungs, slowly damaging and destroying him, much like Potter, as Potter gave him an open mouthed kiss.

They parted and Draco let out a small cough. Potter’s hands were on him again and he felt warmth seeping into his cold body. He looked at Potter’s lips, tinged slightly grey, and then into Potter’s eyes.

“I need you too, Potter.” _But not in the same way that you need me._

Potter nodded his head, his expressions still neutral and unchanged. He pushed Draco onto his bed and climbed on top of him. He touched Draco’s shirt but Draco pulled his hands away. He flipped them around, making sure he was on top of Potter as he unbuttoned Potter’s shirt.

Potter let go of him, taking out a pack of cigarettes. He offered one to Draco who shook his head, choosing instead to latch his lips onto Potter’s bronze skin. Potter shuddered, but Draco wasn’t really sure if that was his reaction to Draco or the first drag of his cigarette.

He let his lips trail down Potter’s body, stopping near his trousers to look up at Potter. Potter’s eyes were on him, still unchanged and unblinking. He unzipped the trousers and continued on with his assault, pleasantly surprised when Potter arched upwards with a sharp gasp.

“Draco.”

Draco’s lips were wrapped around Potter’s member and Potter bucked slightly every time Draco took him in fully, holding tighter onto Draco’s sheets.

“Draco, I-”

“Do it, Potter. Let go.” And he did.

* * *

 

Harry felt sick to his core, his hands dropping as Gringells approached him, but before anything else could happen, the bell rang, indicating the end of class.

Gringells immediately straightened up, patting Harry on the shoulder, “That was quite impressive Mr. Potter; you put up an incredible fight. I would not have guessed it but your physical abilities seem to almost compare to your magical ones.”

He could only nod his head as Gringells turned to the rest of the class dismissing them, before walking away. Everyone came to greet him, gathering around him to shower him with compliments.

Harry had no clue how he managed to acknowledge them or pretend like he was listening to them and appreciating them, he was still in shock and he needed to get out of the room. He was starting to get claustrophobic.

“Mate,” Ron came to his rescue, “you alright? You look a bit pale.”

“I think I might desperately need to take a piss,” Harry replied, feeling relieved when Ron let go of him and told him to hurry up.

He could barely smile in response before he was out of the room, stumbling and crashing into the wall at times as he tried to navigate his way to someplace he could quietly stay without being interrupted or found. There was already no one around him, but he needed more privacy.

His breath left his body as he was pulled into a room by an extended hand. Harry’s mouth opened to scream but a cold hand clamped it shut. He felt a wave of dizziness overcoming him and collapsed onto his knees, bringing whoever was holding him, falling down with him.

“Fuck, Potter!” The voice exclaimed. It had Harry swiveling around despite the dizziness.

“Malfoy,” Harry gasped out, “what are you doing here?”

“You can fool everyone else, Potter,” Malfoy said, “but you can’t fool me. What happened back there with you fighting like that, it wasn’t normal, was it?” Harry shook his head.

He felt another wave of nausea pass over him and he closed his eyes trying to resist the urge to puke. The next second, he felt two cold hands cupping his face, “Potter, you’re in shock. What were you thinking offering yourself up like that? I could’ve handled Gringells.”

Harry felt a dry laugh making its way out of his throat. “No,” he said, “you couldn’t have.”

“You couldn’t either, apparently,” Malfoy said and Harry opened his eyes. “You’re a stupid, idiotic prat you know that?” Grey eyes were filled with worry and concern.

It wasn’t a great look on Malfoy. The furrowed-brows and wrinkled-forehead look didn’t quite suit him.

Harry held onto Draco’s shirt as Draco stopped caressing his cheek and let his hands fall. He dropped his head on Draco’s shoulder and let out a small laugh into it.

“I do know that,” he said and was surprised to feel the vibrations of Draco’s chest, his warm chuckle washing over him, “and I also keep hearing that it’s going to get me killed one of these days.” The chuckling stopped and Harry dared to look up.

“What happened to you?” Draco asked, seriously. “When Gringells started fighting, something changed didn’t it? I know that look you had Potter, I’ve seen it before. You were running strictly on adrenaline weren’t you? You seemed as though you were fighting based on experience rather than practice.”

Harry was loath to admit that Draco was hitting the mark with every one of his guesses. “I was,” he admitted, “You could say that I felt as if my past were finally catching up with me.”

* * *

 

Draco lay in bed with his eyes closed. He could still smell it. Potter was smoking the cigarette as he lay right next to him.

He reached out to take it, opening his eyes and taking a pull. Then he coughed, and turned. Those green eyes were looking into his. Draco took another drag, letting the smoke fill his lungs completely, feeling his eyes burning.

He felt the suffocation, the pain, the inevitable coughing it would cause, and he wanted it. He wanted to feel all of it so that he could remember, remember what it felt like to have Potter in his bed, all smokey breaths, half lidded eyes and ashen lips.

Potter took the cigarette from him and smoked it. He let out a puff of smoke and Draco watched it drift into the air. He watched it and felt a sudden urge take him over.

Sitting up, he put his hand through the smoke, creating a ring, a smokey, grey halo.

“Draco, what-” A startled laugh erupted from Harry’s throat. Draco faced him, a smile showing on his own lips. He looked on as Potter laughed, bright green eyes, a wide smile, his face lighting up and the noise feeling as if it had suddenly purified the room.

Potter blew another puff of smoke and sat up. He let it drift up and looked at Draco, as if expecting him to perform the same trick again. He did. He created another grey halo.

Potter blew it away though and before Draco could ask why, Potter had gripped Draco’s hips, quite mean if he was being honest. It turned Draco on a lot more than it should, and Potter pried his lips open, kissing him.

Draco let him, because there could be nothing truly better than this.

There was nothing better than kissing Potter, than the feel of his body against Draco’s. Skin against skin, tongue touching tongue, legs wrapped around legs and hands intertwined into each other’s, sweaty palm against sweaty palm.

Harry offered Draco a smoke from his cigarette. This time he didn’t decline it. He took it and stood up, walking over and leaning against the window to look outside. He saw Potter standing on the opposite end, doing the same.

They were close, but not enough. Draco stepped forwards and offered Potter his ciggy back. He took it.

Draco took in the darkness of the night sky, he took in the sounds of traffic and the people walking along the streets. He saw Potter taking a smoke, saw his breath fogging up the glass window.

Potter drew a stick figure on it and they both watched it disappear moments later. So Draco breathed onto the same area, gathering up more fog, drawing another stick figure. Their eyes met.

Harry bent down just as much as Draco had and he breathed out and he drew. They both drew. It was a story, of what they didn’t know. Was it happy? Was it sad? Was it them? Who knew?

But they stayed. They sat down on the edge of the window sill, one leg up with their toes touching, and the other leg down and swinging on its side.

They smoked, cigarette after cigarette until it was three am.

“I have to go,” Potter said, “I have to-” Draco nodded.

“Then go.”

The ache had grown and changed, it had transformed itself into something worse.

_Yearning._

* * *

 

“Potter could you stop being so cryptic and just tell me what is going on?”

“It was my relatives,” Harry said. He tried to say something more, tried to explain, but no words would come out of his mouth.

Draco scoffed. “Did they make you fight with them the muggle way, with kicks and punches?” he asked.

“If by that, you mean that the only ones fighting were them and I wasn’t allowed to fight back, then yes,” Harry forced his words out, looking away. “It was more of hits and blows than kicks and punches.”

It was so quiet that Harry could hear the wind blowing past him, he could hear Draco’s breathing, could feel his chest rising and falling, could feel the rush of hot air near his ear every time Draco exhaled.

“Oh,” he heard Draco softly say. He made his hands let go of Draco’s shirt, consciously pulling away as he felt almost back to normal.

The shock had mostly passed. Harry could go back to class.

He glanced up at Draco one last time, feeling a sudden urge to flee and another, just as intense, to stay. “I should go,” he said and stood up, his legs carrying him away from the empty room and to the classroom he was supposed to be going into.

The Auror who was teaching them didn’t seem to care about that fact that Harry was late, he excused him, and this might’ve been the only time Harry was actually glad about it.

He didn’t dare to think about Draco, didn’t even as much as look at him when he showed up late and was given a strict warning. Draco had already found out enough about him and Harry had no intentions of letting anyone else find out anything more.

Luckily for Harry, there had been no more demonstrations that day, but the subtle hatred shown by their Auror Trainers towards Malfoy continued. Harry saw Malfoy’s jaw clench, body tense, but his eyes remained cool, his nod polite as he accepted whatever verbal assault he was offered to him.

Harry itched for a fight, he wanted to put the trainers in their place, but he wasn’t sure he had the strength to after having faced the first demonstration. So he took a deep breath, dug his nails into his palms and watched the ongoing assaults like the powerless spectator that he was.

Neither he nor Ron were surprised when they were roomed with each other. Curiosity overtook Harry though and he wondered who Malfoy could’ve been roomed with. Would anybody be willing to stay with him? Would they treat him well and with the respect that he deserved? Harry wouldn’t mind accepting that offer.

Harry need not have worried because to his immense surprise, Malfoy was staying in a room alone. Perhaps, he had requested it. Harry refused to think that the Ministry could’ve separated Malfoy or thought him unworthy of having a roommate.

It was halfway through the second day of training that it happened.

Their Dark Arts and Cursed Objects Trainer, Auror Ferdinand, had wanted to demonstrate the use of dark spells in front of the class by dueling one of the trainees. “Mr. Potter, would you perhaps care to join me?”

Harry had felt a chill climbing up his spine, slowly feeling as if it were freezing his bones.

“Auror Ferdinand,” a voice that wasn’t his cut in and Harry felt the cold spreading through his body, “would you perhaps mind taking me instead? I am quite keen and very well-versed in dark spells, I can assure you.”

Harry knew that wasn’t the reason Draco was offering to duel in his place. He knew before he even looked at him. _No!_

But Harry was helpless to do anything besides watch as Draco walked over to Auror Ferdinand and a tense silence settled across the room.

“Are you ready, Mr. Malfoy?” Malfoy nodded his head.

Harry leaned forward in his seat. Despite the pit widening in his stomach and his gut instinct telling him that something was going to go wrong, he knew that this would be a duel worth watching. It was.

Draco defended for everything he was worth. He defended, never attacked. He should have, he could have, but Harry and Draco both knew why he didn’t. _Who’s the stupid, idiotic prat now?_

The duel was extremely interesting, until it turned sour.

* * *

 

Lips met, tongues swirled around each other’s. Potter was straddling Draco, grinding against him.

Draco had a hand on Potter’s lower back, and another around his neck, and Potter’s were holding, or rather gently touching, Draco’s face. They were kissing and breathing and touching, their hearts beating as one.

Draco pulled away and looked into Potter’s eyes, breathless. Potter didn’t look away, his lips parted slightly as he huffed out and sucked in puffs of air.

“You’re insane!” Draco remembered Pansy exclaiming.

He’d met with his Slytherin friends during the weekend and they hadn’t had to look twice to tell that something was different about Draco, something had changed.

“You’re acting a bit overdramatic Pans, don’t you think?” Draco had replied with a roll of his eyes.

“Actually, Draco, I agree with her,” Millicent had said. “Having sex in the bathroom, pressed against the sink, isn’t the way I’d want my first time to be, or any time to tell you the truth.”

“You must be crazy mad about this secret lover if you were willing to rut up against him anywhere near a dirty sink and let him have you in a bathroom which was probably in an even worse condition,” Daphne had added.

Little had they known….

“I’ll have you know that the bathroom was quite hygienic, and the sink was quite clean.”

“And the sex?” Blaise had cut in, “How was the sex?” Draco had gone completely red.

“It must’ve been quite good,” Theo had answered, “Tell us, Draco, did you go one round or several? Was it just that one time or did you meet up multiple times?”

Draco had smirked at all of the glances that had been trained on him. They had been very curious to know, but he hadn’t told them anything, _anything_.

“You realise,” Draco had said, “that I don’t have to fucking tell you anything, right? That’s the beauty of a secret. You know I’m supposed to keep it that way.”

“Well, whoever your lover is, he’s fucking strange. Stranger than you are.”

“Draco?” A thumb softly tracing across his bottom lip brought him back to the present. “You alright?” Draco nodded his head, looking into Harry’s eyes which seemed expressive for the first time since they’d…interacted.

He swallowed heavily. _What are we, Potter? What are we doing? Is this just sex? Are we ever going to tell anyone? Must it stay this way? Why?_

Draco was scared of asking, scared of being on the receiving end of Potter’s bluntly honest responses. He wished that he could ask Potter and just expect him to lie to Draco’s face, to tell him that they were something more, that it wasn’t just sex, that what they were doing wasn’t meaningless, that it meant everything to him, as much as it did to Draco.

But Draco would have to make do with what he had with Potter and let that be enough.

He slid his hands up the hem of Potter’s shirt, trailing them up Potter’s body as he leaned into Potter’s ear. Potter whimpered into him, moaning his name softly, his hands fisting and crumpling up the shoulders of Draco’s shirt.

Draco released a light breath into Potter’s ear, making him shake and mumble a quiet, “Draco.”

He pressed a firm kiss underneath Potter’s ear and whispered, “Potter,” then he kissed Potter’s cheek, and his jaw, and his neck, and his collarbone. And he let Potter’s each groan and whimper and moan settle into him and turn into a memory.

He let all of the different ways Potter uttered his name sink into his very skin, wanting to never let them go. And his yearning grew.

* * *

 

 _“Rictumsempra!”_ Auror Ferdinand bellowed, and Draco’s hand shook for a millisecond. That was all it took for the spell to hit him.

Harry sprang out of his seat before he could even take a breath, only becoming aware of it when Ron pulled him down. He realised why Ron had done that when he looked ahead and saw that Auror Ferdinand had immediately withdrawn his spell and had helped Draco rise to his feet.

“That was an extremely impressive display Mr. Malfoy, and I appreciate your wide range of use of defensive spells as well as the lack of use of actual dark spells. I am quite keen to see you use those too,” Auror Ferdinand said, and as the bell rang, patted Malfoy on the back, “Keep up the good work.”

Malfoy seemed to be struggling with his exterior as he thanked Auror Ferdinand and left the room. Harry followed him, promising Ron that he’d meet him in their next lecture.

He liked to think that all of his ‘stalking’, as Ron and Hermione had put it, in sixth year had increased his stealth to the point that he didn’t need his invisibility cloak anymore, but it could also be the high levels of distress Malfoy was experiencing in that moment.

When Malfoy pushed into a bathroom, Harry knew this was territory he’d have to tread carefully into. Just as he took out his wand, planning on leaving it outside, he heard the door locking from the inside.

Harry steadied his wand in his hand and said, “Alohomora.” He heard a click and stepped inside. As he closed the door and turned around, he froze.

He felt the coldness finally spreading to his heart, because Draco was bent over a sink, his wand in hand, pressed against the sink. He wasn’t crying, but he was shaking, trembling, his lips parted as if he were struggling to breathe.

“Draco,” Harry whispered, his voice coming out loud in the silence of the bathroom. Draco glanced up through the mirror and his eyes widened. He quickly turned around, his wand on Harry.

Harry was confused until he realised that he was still holding his wand in his hand. He watched it hit the floor the next second and then looked up at Draco.

“Sorry,” he said, and saw Draco relax slightly, loosening his grip on his wand. “I’m sorry.” Harry dropped his head a little.

“What are you doing here, Potter?” Draco asked. His breathing seemed harsh, the trembling almost contained, but his eyes still showed emotions that Harry doubted anyone else could infer. Harry had gazed into those eyes enough to do exactly that though.

“I came here to apologise,” Harry offered as he walked towards Draco, whose wand was pointed downwards now. “I know what happened back there and I know that it was my fault. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for what I did to you and I’m sorry that I’ve never said it before.”

Draco let out a breath. “Potter,” he said and closed his eyes, his lips pursed as he tried to normalize his breathing.

Harry had almost reached Draco, was inches away from him, and dared to trail his hand lightly down Draco’s chest, where the scars should be. “I’m sorry for hurting you. I swear it was an accident. I didn’t mean to cast that spell on you.”

Draco shuddered and opened his eyes, but didn’t pull away from him. “It doesn’t matter anymore, Potter. What’s done is done,” he said, and Draco tried to move past him. Harry held him in place.

“It does matter to me. Is there anything that I can do to make it up to you?” Harry asked and he was aware that he was begging, pleading. He was aware of the non-existent distance between them, of every part of Draco’s body.

He was aware of Draco’s eyes, his nose, his lips, his cheeks, his jaw, his neck, his throat, of his chest and his beating heart. Draco’s lips were parted. “Potter.”

“Anything?” Harry asked, a raw quality to his tone. He had Draco pressed against the bathroom sink and his own lips were parted. His eyes went to Draco’s throat as he swallowed.

Draco shook his head. “Nothing,” he said, “you don’t have to do anything, Potter. You are forgiven.” His platinum blond hair fell in his eyes.

Harry’s fingers were in Draco’s hair before he could even think. He had never known exactly how much he’d wanted Draco until that moment, never been aware of exactly how desperate he was for Draco.

“Are you sure?” Harry’s voice came out cracked and a bit breathy.

“Yes,” Draco breathed, but his eyes weren’t looking into Harry’s, they were looking down at Harry’s lips. “There is nothing.”

When he looked up, he was licking his lips.

Harry breathed, staring at Draco through dilated pupils before he licked his own lips and pressed them against Draco’s. He felt all of the breath collectively leaving his body, felt as if he were drifting high in the air, gently moving against the breeze.

Then Draco kissed him back, and he felt as if he were high on amphetamines, on every single drug he had ever heard the name of and never actually had. He felt bathed in them, as if they had soaked into his very skin, as if he had been doused in them.

And then he was pushed away, and he saw Draco with his eyes wide, mouth gaping and hands ruffling through his hair. He saw Draco shaking his head and mumbling a, “See you later, Potter.”

He saw Draco leaving and leaned back, pressing his hips against the sink, still dazed from the kiss. As his breath slowly returned to his body, he couldn’t help but think that maybe this was karma for the sudden way that he had left Draco the previous day.

* * *

 

Draco had Potter pressed against his bed and completely naked. Never in his wildest dreams had Draco ever thought that he could have Potter like this, so vulnerable and completely trusting.

Potter was looking up at him with those eyes again and there was no fear, not even a hint of hesitation, no second guessing, just utter and complete faith in Draco.

Draco stared back into those eyes. “You ready?” Potter nodded, his hand trailing down Draco’s shirt.

“Why don’t you ever take it off?” He asked. His voice was soft, a quiet whisper. Draco shook and swallowed.

He opened his mouth and closed it. “You know why.” Harry nodded his head and sat up before Draco could protest.

“I want you to take it off.” It wasn’t an order, it was a request. Draco’s body shook harder. “Can I take it off?”

He let out a breath that sounded more like a sob and felt fingers under his chin, lifting his face up. He felt lips, soft and pliant, pressing against his as he closed his eyes.

Tears gathered at the corner of his eyes and burned at them as the cigarette smoke had his lungs. “Please, Draco. I- I want to.” Tear drops fell from his eyes as he nodded his head and the lips were on his again, more insistent this time.

Potter’s hands held his face, fingers wiping the tears from his eyes.

They parted as Potter carefully began to unbutton Draco’s shirt. Draco opened his eyes to look down, his heart racing.

Harry’s hands stopped and trembled as the beginnings of Draco’s Sectumsempra scar started to show. “You were right,” he said, “Maybe we shouldn’t- I shouldn’t-” He dropped his hands and looked down.

Draco picked them up and put them onto his shirt again. “Continue, Potter. Come on, you’re not a quitter.”

Potter’s eyes widened momentarily before he nodded his head and continued. The shirt fell off of Draco’s shoulders and pooled around him on the bed, and Potter stared at his scars.

* * *

 

He stepped out of his room, closing the door behind him and leaning against it. He took deep breaths and let his eyes flutter shut.

“So what brings you here Potter?” Harry startled, almost reaching for his wand before he recognised the voice.

“Malfoy.” Harry released a sigh of relief. “It’s just you.”

Draco raised an eyebrow at Harry’s reaction. “I’m a former Death Eater, Potter, at least have the decency to pretend to be scared of me.”

Harry rolled his eyes in response and joined Draco in leaning against the balcony. That was when he noticed the cigarette Draco held in between two of his fingers.

He brought it up to his lips and exhaled the smoke into the air. Harry watched the motion, but his eyes lingered on Draco’s lips. “Do you want a smoke, Potter?” Draco asked, and Harry realised he’d been staring for a while.

He nodded his head and took the cigarette. “I didn’t know you smoked,” Harry said before pressing the ciggy in between his lips and inhaling the smoke.

He felt it slightly blur his senses and it made him want to let go of his inhibitions, made him want to let loose, kind of like Draco did. He slid his eyes to Draco’s lips again and blew out the smoke.

Draco held out his hand and Harry passed him the ciggy. “There are a lot of things you don’t know about me Potter.”

“I wonder how many,” Harry mused and saw Draco glance at him amusedly. Silence washed over them as they both looked out towards the horizon. It was darkened and neither of them could see a thing.

Harry turned to Draco, who seemed to have a sense of tranquility as he smoked, eyes watching the smoke drift off into the darkness. He swallowed and spoke.

“Nightmare?” Draco’s hand shook and his cigarette shook even harder. “I had one too.”

Draco finally looked at him. “Was it about your relatives? About how they- how they-”

Harry was already shaking his head halfway through Draco’s question. “It was about the war. When I died.” Draco’s ciggy stopped halfway to his lips and he paused for a second, grey eyes intense when they met Harry’s. Why did he feel like drowning in them?

He gave his cigarette to Harry. “I’m sorry,” he said. Harry nodded his head and pressed the ciggy to his lips again.

“Not your fault,” he said and turned to notice that Draco’s eyes were on his lips again. His heart skipped a beat. “Draco,” he said and licked his lips.

It took a second for Draco to look up from Harry’s lips to his eyes, but when he did, the expressions in them made Harry lose the ability to speak.

He didn’t need to speak though because the next second, Draco had tossed his ciggy out of the balcony and his cold hands were pressing into the sides of Harry’s face. And Harry couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t, because Draco’s lips were on his.

Before Harry could even think of parting his lips, Draco had already pulled away, his hands trailing down Harry’s arms to reach his own sides. Harry held onto them before they could.

He saw a small smile cross Draco’s lips, his eyes glancing down at their hands which were now intertwined. Then his eyes met with Harry’s again. “I guess this was inevitable wasn’t it?”

* * *

 

Draco stared too. Potter’s expressions were impassive as his fingers lightly dared to touch the scars. Draco had to remind himself not to flinch, to give in to Potter’s warm touch and comfort, to his gentle reassurance.

“It’s so much worse than I expected.” And Draco flinched at Potter’s words. Harry’s eyes widened again, suddenly aware of what he’d said. “That’s not what I meant.” His hands were on Draco again, fingertips tracing the scars. “It’s me,” he said, softly, “I hurt you. I almost killed you.”

Draco found it hard to think, hard to swallow the bile rising up his throat. “I forgave you a long time ago.”

“You shouldn’t. You shouldn’t have. I don’t deserve your forgiveness,” Potter said and Draco was so close to breaking down in front of Potter again. He didn’t want to.

“I don’t deserve yours either Potter, but here we are,” Draco replied and before Harry could say another word, he kissed him.

He pushed Potter back onto the bed and pulled away, leaving Potter catching his breath. Draco was completely naked too now and he looked Potter in the eyes as he said, “Scared, Potter?”

Potter’s eyes were blazing; his lips in a smirk, same as Draco’s, and face reflecting the same confidence. “You wish, Malfoy.” And Draco entered him.

Harry arched into him screaming his name, growing louder and faster the more Draco pushed inside him. They were both gripping tightly onto Draco’s silk satin sheets, the noises they were making, muffled in each other’s shoulders.

Draco’s hands clenched into fists as he thrusted harder, murmuring Potter’s name with each breath, and Potter took it all in, all of Draco, letting himself feel and open up. Letting Draco see him like that-vulnerable and completely trusting.

“Potter, I’m about to-” Draco started to say, but Potter cut him off, joining their lips together and letting their tongues touch.

Draco shuddered as he felt it coming, ending the kiss to lean completely into Potter. He grabbed onto the sheets harder and gritted his teeth, feeling Potter’s hands on his back.

And as he came, stronger than he ever had before, he called out Potter’s name in his ear. “Harry.”

* * *

 

Harry breathed in the air surrounding him. “It was.” It felt like everything, all of their interactions, every single thing, had led to this one moment-the kiss and them. “After all it was only a matter of time before you fell for the great Harry Potter. I hear he is _quite_ the charmer. Everyone loves him.”

“Does everyone? I have heard that he is _quite_ the dick.” Draco said, and he removed a packet of cigarettes from his pocket. Taking one from it, he held the packet out towards Harry.

It only took him a moment to decide and take one for himself. “I hear he _has_ quite the dick.”

“Potter!” Draco looked scandalised and colour seemed to be climbing up his cheeks, reddening them.

Harry couldn’t help smiling at him as he felt his own cheeks heating up. They darkened when Draco followed his calling of Harry’s name with a laugh. And Harry’s smile widened.

“You seem almost eager to show me,” Draco said, a hint of laughter still on his lips, along with the trail left behind by the cigarette. Harry knew that his lips probably resembled Draco’s in that respect. “Harry Potter’s dick, that is.”

“Oh I am,” Harry replied, “I have pictures, if you’re interested.” Draco laughed harder.

“Potter!” He exclaimed again. Harry had never known that it was possible to get so hard and turned on just from hearing the sound of someone’s laughter or from seeing someone so happy and smiling like Draco was.

And then, before _he’d_ realised it, he was tossing _his_ ciggy out of the balcony and holding Draco’s face in _his_ hands as gently and carefully as he could. He was swallowing that ashen taste of cigarette smoke and his lips were brushing softly against Draco’s.

Draco didn’t put up any resistance so Harry gently pried his lips open, kissing him deeply, and Draco kissed him back. His hands were lowering down Harry’s back and they went lower and lower until they were on Harry’s hips.

Harry came to the sudden realization that he wasn’t the only one who’d grown incredibly hard in his trousers. He let his hands wander down so they could fist Draco’s shirt collar, and he felt Draco gripping his hips quite meanly.

They were both pressing against each other, wanting to get closer than physically possible, wanting to melt into each other and never let go. They pulled away, and Harry was gasping and heaving for breath.

Yes, it had been inevitable. It was always inevitable. Harry was in love with Draco and it had always been inevitable.

They stayed there on the balcony until three am, just smoking cigarette after cigarette, until Draco threw the whole packet away and declared that he was going back to his room to sleep.

Harry had the biggest urge to ask to go with him. He did have a room of his own, did he not? But Harry needed the sleep and so did Draco and Harry couldn’t be trusted in his current state.

Everything was a blur except for Draco. He was crystal clear, and every moment spent with him was fossilised in Harry’s brain-stored at the bottom of it, but not forgotten. It would surface eventually.

Because Harry was in love with Draco and it had always been inevitable. It really had been.

* * *

 

They both ended up sitting at the edge of the window sill again, drawing stick figures in the fog. The fog was caused by the temperature this time rather than cigarette smoke.

Draco was thankful for that. He was as far from the mood to smoke as he could be, Potter seemed to be feeling the same way. He seemed to be stuck deep in thought as he drew eyes on his stick figure, and a smiley face.

Harry could probably feel Draco’s eyes on him, which caused him to look up and Draco to look away. He knew that Potter hadn’t stopped glancing at his scars since he’d taken his shirt off.

He’d put the rest of his clothes on, but he’d let the shirt stay off. It had made him feel a sort of freedom he’d never felt before. Potter’s eyes on him, though, made him feel uncomfortable.

Just as he was about to mention it to Potter, Potter spoke.

“Draco,” he said, and his expressions were undecipherable, “I think we should stop this.”

Draco’s heart froze. “What- What do you mean, Potter?”

“I mean that whatever this is, whatever’s going on between us, I think it should stop. Permanently,” Potter said, and Draco’s heart shattered.

There were so many things that he wanted to ask Potter, so many things he wanted to say to him. He only said, “Okay.” He only watched as Potter walked away, only watched as he opened the door and closed it slowly behind him.

Potter hadn’t once looked Draco’s way, hadn’t once looked back, and Draco hadn’t once been able to look away. He stared and he stared after Potter, wondering.

He wondered if he’d taken too long, if he’d been too late. Wondered if he should’ve asked all of the questions in his mind, wondered if he should’ve told Potter how he felt.

He remembered the first time they’d done it in the bathroom, pressed against the sink, remembered thinking that Potter must’ve done it with many a willing participants before, that it was nothing new. He remembered the hole Potter had left in him, physically, and how that hole was now manifesting mentally.

He remembered the ache, the yearning, how it had always been there but he’d felt it distinctly in these last few weeks. Maybe he should’ve told Potter how he felt about him, how he’d always felt about him.

Maybe he should’ve confessed, should’ve admitted to Potter that he was in love with him, that he’d always been in love with him. But now it was too late and he’d taken too long and Potter was gone.

Draco wondered if Harry would find another willing participant, if he’d already found one, if that’s all Draco had been to him. But then he remembered Potter…Harry. Harry who walked like he was a God, but he’d let Draco turn him weak.

Harry with his easily readable eyes and his open sincere expressions, that beatific smile and the way he had allowed Draco to enter inside him, to feel him. And he thought maybe this wasn’t about him. Maybe it never had been. But did he really believe it?

Were they really anything more than a dirty, little secret, anything more than a nice fuck or two? Draco closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

He looked down at his scars and remembered Harry’s hands tracing them, could still feel the tips of his fingers trailing down Draco’s chest.

_I love you, Potter. I’m in love with you. Please come back, back to me. I don’t think I can- I don’t want to-_

_Please!_

* * *

 

Harry could tell that something was wrong the moment he walked into the gym. Gringells had requested all of them to do the given hours of muscle exercises and cardio training, so they had to spend at least a few hours in the gym daily.

Draco never showed up. He didn’t show up to the gym that afternoon or in the evening and he didn’t show up for his classes the next day morning. Harry was more than just worried or concerned; he was convinced that something had gone very, very wrong with him. He prayed that Draco was alright.

So he didn’t know whether to be more shocked or relieved when he spotted Draco in the gym, the next afternoon. From the look of things, he seemed to be just leaving.

Harry didn’t even have time to be distracted by Malfoy’s gym attire because he was too busy catching his attention. But Draco didn’t so much as glance at him, choosing to keep his head down as he walked past Harry. Harry knew it wasn’t the right place to ask Draco what was going on so he waited until they were outside before he made a grab for Draco.

He saw Draco’s eyes widen and turn panicky for a moment before he spotted Harry and his expressions smoothened, body relaxing in Harry’s grip. It made Harry feel a certain way.

“Potter, what do you want?” Draco asked coldly. Oh, so they were reverting back to their childish rivalry and false antagonism were they now?

“I was worried about you,” Harry admitted. He forced the words to fall from his lips because not seeing Draco and wondering what had happened to him had been hell for Harry.

The waiting alone had left Harry desperate, but Ron had been with him the entire day, and he was already suspicious of what was going on with Harry. What would he say when he found out about the way Harry truly felt about Draco?

He had to tell someone and he wanted to tell Ron, he wanted to tell him about the kiss in the bathroom and the ones on the balcony, he wanted to tell him about the conversations they’d had, he wanted to tell Ron about everything. He wanted to tell everyone, but he just had to figure _this_ out first.

“You disappeared after our classes yesterday and I haven’t seen you until today.”

Draco pulled his hand from Harry’s grasp, looking away, “Just leave me alone, Potter.” He took a step away from Harry, as if wanting to put distance between them, but Harry didn’t like that, he wanted an explanation. He had been _so_ worried.

He took a step forward. “Why?” Draco didn’t respond. His hands were clenched into fists and seemed to be digging into his tracksuit bottoms.

When he finally looked up, his eyes were red-rimmed. “Because I hate you,” he gritted out, so softly and without a hint of emotion, so contradictory to what shown on his face and in his eyes.

Harry took a step back, feeling the words hit him like sharp shards of broken glass, some of them getting painfully stuck in his heart. He opened his mouth to speak, but Draco was already walking away from him and all Harry could do was watch his general form walking away and ache, so completely and fully that it almost overrode the pain of the words Draco had just spoken to him.

_“I hate you.”_

_But I love you, Draco, so much._

* * *

 

Draco stared at his punching bag, hitting it hard. It moved backwards with the force of Draco’s punch. He wiped at his sweat-covered forehead with the back of his arm and hit the bag again, harder.

The bag moved further back, swinging with more force, making Draco do the same. He wiped at his chin, just under his bottom lip, with the back of his hand.

_“Draco, I think we should stop this.”_

_“What- What do you mean, Potter?”_

Weeks. They had been sleeping together for weeks. A few blissful, happy, short weeks. Draco should’ve known deep down that it would go wrong, that one day Potter would want to stop all of this nonsense and leave him.

That Harry would want someone else, someone who was worthy of him, someone who-

A hand settled on his shoulder, halting his thoughts. _Please let it be him. Please let it not be him._

“Draco.” It was not Potter. He turned around, wondering whether he was hallucinating.

“Weasl- um- Ron,” Draco nodded at him.

“You need to speak to Harry.” Draco blinked.

“I don’t understa-” Ron cut in before Draco could finish his sentence.

“I think you do,” he said, “Whatever has happened between you two, I need you to sort it out. Harry- Harry’s not being himself these days, he isn’t acting like himself. I'm begging you Draco, just please make this right. Let him be fine, make it alright.”

Draco was still confused, still too stuck on the fact that Weasley was asking _him_ to make sure Harry was okay. “What exactly do you think has happened between Potter and I? I have not hurt him if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Ron scoffed at him. “Please, Draco, you can drop the act. I already know everything, everyone does. He told all of us about the first time you two kissed, and the first time you both had sex. He told us everything.”

“You- you know?” Draco was in shock. “I thought that it was supposed to be a secret, that it was supposed to be just between the two of us.”

“Well you thought wrong,” Weasley said, “and you clearly hurt him.”

* * *

 

It was next day morning that Ron put his foot down.

Harry had spent most of the day before and that particular day, staring at the back of Draco’s head, sulking. He had not been deliberately staring at Draco’s back muscles when he had been working out that evening, but it had also not been accidental.

Still, it had just been his back and Harry had been more than aware of his staring along with the misery that had shown on his face all along. It was during one of their short breaks that Ron took Harry into a corner and talked to him.

“Alright,” he said, “What is it? What did Malfoy say to you? Do I have to punch him like Mione did because he’s broken up with you?”

Harry gaped at Ron, not being able to comprehend what he’d said, in that matter-of-factly way and with an apparently straight face. “I- he- broke up with me?” Harry stuttered.

“He did, didn’t he?” Ron nodded his head in acceptance and turned to look at Draco with anger in his eyes. “Git still hasn’t changed I guess. I should’ve known.”

Just as Ron was about to walk over to him, to punch him probably, Harry quickly held Ron back. “Ron, _no_. He’s not broken up with me. We’re not even dating. Why would you think that?”

Ron looked surprised at Harry’s confession. “With the way you’ve been sneaking around lately, I thought…” Ron trailed off with a thoughtful look in his eyes, “I told Mione about it and she thought the same thing. I was going to ask you but Mione said that we should wait for you to tell us by yourself.”

“No, we’re not,” Harry could feel the glass shards pushing deeper into his heart. “He hates me.” His voice broke and Harry tried to blink away his tears.

He felt Ron’s hand on his shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly. “What happened?”

“I just- after yesterday, when he didn’t show up, I was worried about him. So I asked him about it and he said that he hated me.” The tears fell from his eyes. “He said that he hates me, Ron, but I- I think I might be in love with him. I am in love with him.”

Tears fell harder and Ron hugged Harry just as hard. “I’m so sorry.”

“And I kissed him, in the bathroom, after the Rictumsempra incident and that night when I went to the balcony I saw him smoking and I smoked too and _he_ kissed _me_ and then I kissed him again. I really thought, I _really_ thought-”

Harry’s thoughts were drowned out by the sound of his sobs. “I love him, Ron. I love him so much it hurts, and he hates me. He _hates_ me.”

“Do you really believe that?” Ron asked him and Harry pulled away from the hug to give him a quizzical look. “Don’t get me wrong, I still firmly believe that Malfoy’s an obnoxious prat, but would he have kissed you twice and shared a cigarette with you if he hated you?”

“We talked too, a lot. He said that he forgave me for the sectumsempra thing, and he laughed with me,” Harry remembered, wiping his eyes with the sleeves of his robes.

“He also volunteered to go in your place for the demonstration with Auror Ferdinand,” Ron added.

“I know, but he said- what if it’s true?” Harry asked, and the shards pushed deeper.

“Mate,” Ron said, firmly but gently, his hand still on Harry’s shoulder, as if a continuous reminder that he was there for him. “You cannot be this oblivious. You know Malfoy, you know there’s a reason for why he didn’t show up and why he’s been ignoring you. I know it’s been eating at you since days. Go talk to him.”

“Are you sure?” Harry asked, his teeth pulling at his bottom lip as he thought about it. Ron was right, he knew that, but what if he wasn’t?

“I’m positive,” Ron answered, and he seemed sure enough for Harry to push all of his insecurities to the back of his mind and nod his head.

“I’ll go talk to him tonight.” Ron sighed and smiled at him.

“You two really aren’t dating, are you?”

“No. Do you really think I wouldn’t have told you if we had been?” Harry’s lips finally gave in to a smile.

“You still have a lot you _do_ have to tell me.” Ron pointed out.

“I do, and I will tell you and everyone else this weekend. I promise.” After all, weekends were the only times all of the Aurors-in-training could go outside their campus and meet their friends and family.

As Harry and Ron walked back to class, Harry felt a shard that had lodged itself in his heart loosen and fall away. He would be fine, he’d make things right with Draco and they’d be alright. He was positive about it. He had to be.

* * *

 

“You think _I_ hurt _him_? He wanted this to stop!” Draco had had enough of Weasley trying to put the blame on him, enough of him trying to push Draco around. “I never- I never said _anything_ to hurt him. I _never_ hurt him!”

He was heaving breaths and was on the verge of crying, he could feel it. “What were you two doing before he told you he wanted to stop? Did you say something to him?”

“Weasley, can you stop? I said _nothing_. I did nothing. Just leave me alone. It was he who told me that he wanted to see my scars before we had sex, that he wanted to see me shirtless.”

 The words just came out of Draco as he closed his eyes. His vision was blurring and he could feel the beginnings of a pounding headache.

“Your Sectumsempra scars?” Draco nodded his head. “Oh.”

He opened his eyes to see realisation dawn on Weasley’s face. “You need to talk to him. He’s hurting.”

“Weasley, I told you-”

“I know, Draco, I get it, but you’re wrong.” Draco glared sharply at him, all too ready to speak, but Weasley continued. “He didn’t want to stop because of _you_ , this has nothing to do with you.”

“Then why? Why would he just…” _Leave?_

“You’re smart, aren’t you Malfoy? You were top of our class at Hogwarts and you know Harry better than any of us do, just like he knows you better than anyone else. Go and talk to him, figure this out. _Please._ ”

Ron patted Draco on the back, gave him a quick smile and then walked out of the gym. Draco couldn’t help but worry about the concern in Weasley’s eyes, couldn’t help but wonder how desperate Ron must’ve been to come to Draco and say _please_ , to ask him for a favour.

_“I mean that whatever this is, whatever’s going on between us, I think it should stop. Permanently.”_

_“Okay.”_

Draco turned to his punching bag and hit it. His knuckles started to bleed.

* * *

 

That night, after everyone had had dinner and gone up to their rooms, after Harry was sure that Draco had gone up to his room, Harry had bid his time and as soon as he had seen the last of the lights turn out, had walked out of his room. He didn’t have to say a word to Ron, who was fast asleep, Ron already knew where Harry would be going.

He took one last look back into his room before closing the door and taking quick steps over to Draco’s. His heart beat in tune with the two knocks he gave to the wooden door that led to Draco’s room. Nobody answered.

“Draco?” Harry whispered and knocked again. Silence followed and it was unsettling.

Life experiences and Auror training had taught Harry to always listen to and follow his instincts but what his heart told him to do was an entirely different story. His instincts told him to break in and make sure that Draco was okay, but his heart- _what if he hates you even more after you break in and invade his privacy?_

_“Would he have kissed you twice and shared a cigarette with you if he hated you?”_

Harry took out his wand and spelled the door open. It was dark in Draco’s room and as Harry cautiously stepped in, closing the door behind him, he spotted Draco sleeping on his bed.

His heart caught in his throat as he noticed Draco, sleeping peacefully to his side on his enormous bed.

“Lumos,” Harry softly said and went closer to him. A gentle light filled the room.

Draco’s knees were slightly bunched up, his hair falling on his face. Harry wondered how he would ever manage to get mad at Draco if he kept making Harry feel this certain kind of way.

He seemed so small, so fragile in comparison to his bed and his whole room, so completely in contrast with how he usually stood in front of everyone, like a God, and how he seemed so unbreakable.

Harry’s heart was caught in his throat. He got up to walk away, not wanting to further intrude on Draco’s privacy, when he heard it.

It was a gentle moan at first. A softly spoken “no,” which seconds later made way for Draco’s heavy breathing.

“Draco?” Harry pushed Draco’s hair carefully away from his face and behind his ear. Draco’s chest was rising and falling a little too rapidly and Harry didn’t know what to do.

“No,” Draco said and he twisted and turned so that he was facing Harry.

Harry held onto him. “Draco.”

Draco was gripping onto his sheets tightly, he’d been sweating and the sweat had beaded up on his forehead. His face was etched with pain and as suddenly as it had come, the moment passed and Draco lay limply on his bed.

Harry wanted to believe that it was over, that the nightmare had passed, but he felt like something bigger was coming. His body was on high alert. He slowly let go of Draco and it was when he had completely retracted his hands that it happened.

Draco arched upwards all of a sudden and let out a blood curdling scream. The silencing charm Harry cast on the room was a reflex because Harry was otherwise frozen in shock and fear. He couldn’t seem to move, couldn’t seem to stop looking at Draco.

He had turned in Harry’s direction again, sleeping on his side, his head almost touching his knees as he folded his body. Draco’s hand had wrapped around the place on his arm where the Dark Mark was and he was whimpering now. Harry couldn’t take it anymore, he couldn’t.

So he shook Draco and called out his name. “Draco!” And Draco woke up, his eyes widening in the darkness as he seemed to spot Harry. Harry quickly clamped his mouth shut.

“Shhh, it’s me Draco,” he said.

“Harry?” Draco sat up in disarray and light suddenly lit up the whole room. “What are you doing here?” He squinted at Harry through the brightness before he rubbed at his eyes.

“I came here to talk to you,” Harry said. “I- I wanted to know if you were alright.” He was sitting down on the edge of Draco’s bed.

“Potter, I told you-” Draco started to say with sigh.

“You hate me,” Harry stated, trying to swallow the feelings that wanted to rise up his throat, the emotions that threatened to wash over him. “I know. But I don’t. I don’t hate you, so I want to know why you didn’t show up for gym twice and why you missed your classes. And I want to know what you were dreaming about, Draco. I _want_ to know, and I’m not going anywhere until I find out.”

Draco stared at Harry for the longest time and it took all of Harry’s willpower to not look away, to match the intensity of that gaze. Then Draco sighed again and he stood up.

* * *

 

Draco knocked on Harry’s door. He knew that Weasley was out with Granger so Harry had to have the whole room to himself. It was the perfect time to go talk to him really.

He knocked on the door again, irritatedly. “Just open the fucking door, Ron, you have the keys!” A muffled harsh voice filtered out of the door.

“I’m not him, Potter,” Draco answered, and all of the noises from the other end of the door stopped. “Potter?” Nothing.

“Open the door. _Please._ ”

He didn’t know why he added the please and why he was so worried. Potter had left. _Potter_ was fine. It was Draco who was hurting, Draco who wasn’t doing alright.

He was in constant pain and he knew that it wouldn’t fade, that nothing would make it go away except for Potter. And Potter wasn’t opening the door, and now Draco was angry.

“Fuck it,” he spoke under his breath and took out his wand. Several seconds later, he walked into Potter’s room. His breath left him as soon he did.

Potter was sitting on his bed. Calling him a mess would be an understatement, he seemed half dead.

“Potter?” Draco dared to speak.

“Draco,” Harry said and his voice broke. Before Draco had even realised it, he had crossed the entire distance between them.

He didn’t even have to think about what he did next. He sat on Harry’s bed, and held his face in his hands.

It felt warm, a bit too warm. Harry let out a breath.

“Draco,” he murmured, “you’re always so cold.” Draco flinched at his words, heart squeezing. He didn’t realise he was pulling his hands away until Harry pulled them back. “I like it. I like you.”

Draco stopped breathing. He couldn’t register what Harry was saying, couldn’t believe it. Harry had to be sick, he had to be running a fever, that would explain why he was acting so delusional.

“Potter, what is wrong with you? What happened?” Draco asked. He needed to know, needed to know what had happened so that he could make it better for Harry.

“I miss you,” Harry said and Draco straightened up, his hands dropping.

What Potter had just said didn’t make sense. Nothing did. How had Ron known about what had been going on between them? Why had Potter told everyone else about it?

Draco had thought that it was just a fling for Potter, that it didn’t matter to him, that he just wanted the sex, that Draco was just his nemesis turned sex buddy/pity project from Hogwarts. Nothing more.

* * *

 

The questions that rose in Harry’s mind begged to be answered but he kept his mouth shut, watching as Draco leaned down and took something out from one of his drawers. He proceeded to walk over to Harry and sat down next to him.

Harry realised that Draco was holding a torn envelope in his hand and before Harry could ask, Draco had kept it in his hands. He looked up at Draco.

“Read it,” Draco said, and he seemed so tired and exhausted. Harry realised how blind he had been and how right Ron had been. Draco was hurting and Harry needed to find out why.

He took out the piece of paper in the envelope and unfolded it. A sense of dread began to creep up on him and as he finished reading it, all Harry felt was rage. Everything made sense now. Everything.

“This is hate mail,” he said as he looked over at Draco again. “Someone sent this to you.”

Draco nodded his head and pushed a hand through his hair, which stood up in weird pointy angles on his head. “I got this as soon as I came into my room after our classes that day and I-” He let out a shuddering breath.

“This is horrible. Why didn’t you tell me?” Draco snorted at Harry. “I’m serious Draco. How long have you been getting these nightmares?”

Draco was looking down now, his fingers intertwined. Harry put his hand on top of both of Draco’s and heard a soft sob coming from Draco’s lips. Before he could register it, Draco had pulled Harry into a tight hug.

He trembled and shook and Harry didn’t blame him. Draco had gone through so much, he had been through hell, and yet here he was, training to become an Auror. And he stood in front of all those people every day, stronger than ever before, people who all supposedly hated him, or who he probably thought had every reason to do so.

“I am so sorry,” Harry murmured into Draco’s hair as he pulled him closer. He heard Draco mumble something in response. “What was that?”

Draco pulled away and met Harry’s eyes. “I don’t hate you, Potter. I don’t.” And Harry felt the hole that Draco had left in his heart, the pain his words had caused, slowly start to close up and heal. “I’m sorry I said that. I was just trying to push you away.”

 _It worked_ , Harry felt like saying, _it almost worked_. But he said, “I know. I figured that out with a little help.” _From Ron._

Draco nodded his head and Harry pushed Draco’s head onto his shoulder again, continuing the hug. “You do know that you don’t deserve this, right? Whoever wrote that hate mail was wrong. There are plenty of people who care about you, and you’re not evil. You aren’t a bad person. You had no choice, you did what you had to, and when it came down to it, you saved my life. I know that in the end, you didn’t support Voldemort. Whoever this is, they don’t know what they’re talking about.”

That was when Draco started to cry and Harry held him tightly in his arms. He didn’t know what to do, what to say, but in those moments, he remembered Molly’s words and her gestures and gently began to card his fingers through Draco’s hair. “Shhh, it’s okay. Everything is going to be okay. We’ll figure this out, alright Draco? I promise.”

And as Draco began to relax into his touch, Harry tried to navigate his feelings, and he realised that his ache had transformed. It had grown and changed into something else, something worse. Yearning.

* * *

 

“Then why did you leave?” It was Draco’s voice that broke this time. _“Why did you leave?”_ He felt hot tears burning in his eyes, threatening to spill over. He couldn’t do this anymore, he couldn’t. “Were you ashamed of me? Is that it? Was it just the sex, Potter? Was I just another fan willing to fuck-”

Draco stopped as soon as Harry started crying, regretting putting Harry in pain. But he _needed_ to know. He took Harry’s face in his hands again, gently wiping away the tears that continued to fall as Harry looked down. “Answer me Potter,” Draco said, his voice calm. “I need to know.”

“No,” he replied through the tears. “You weren’t just- You were _never_ just- How could you even think that?”

And Draco’s heart soared at the words, as those green eyes finally looked up into his, and Draco saw a determination in them. Now was the time to say it, Draco knew that. He had to say it before he overthought it, before it was too late again. He needed to tell Potter the truth.

“Well it was never just that for me either, Potter. I love you and I have loved you for so, so long, which is why I need you to tell me why you left.” Potter’s lips moved but he made no sounds. “What was that?”

“I left because I care for you Draco, and I don’t want to lose you. I already hurt you once, I almost killed you because of my stupidity. What if I- what if I do it again? What if I really, really hurt you Draco?”

Suddenly, Ron’s “oh” started to make a lot of sense to Draco. “Potter, Harry, why would you think that? I told you I already forgave you for my scars. It was a mistake; we were both young and stupid.”

“No!” Harry exclaimed and pushed Draco away, starting to straighten up himself, Draco didn’t let him. He pulled Harry into a hug and didn’t dare to loosen his grip until he felt Harry sobbing into his shoulder.

Then he let his fingers push into Harry’s hair and let his other hand trace down Harry’s arm to wrap around his hand. He felt Harry’s breathing hitch when he did.

“You don’t understand,” Harry spoke into his shirt. “I’m cursed. I lose everyone I ever care about. They always die, _always_. My parents died, Sirius died, Remus died, everyone just keeps on dying around me, and when I died, I was brought back. I wish- Instead of them-”

“Potter!” Draco roughly pulled him up and made Harry look into his eyes. “Don’t you ever _dare_ -”

“I love you too, Draco, I have for quite a long time, and I never realised just how much until I realised that I didn’t want to lose you. I never want to lose you and I don’t want to lose what we have because- because it’s the only good thing- only good thing- and I feel like-”

Harry paused and took a deep breath. “I feel like now that it’s gone, I can’t be happy again. But I- I just want you to know that if it came down to it, I’d always make this choice, I’d always leave.”

* * *

 

Harry wasn’t surprised that Draco ignored him the next day morning. Harry had held him almost the whole night. He had whispered soft reassurances and gentle words of encouragement until Draco had fallen asleep. And then he had carefully laid Draco on his bed, put a pillow under his head and covered him in his duvet.

He had kissed Draco on his cheek, said a quiet “Goodnight,” to him, and had been about to walk away. But Draco had held his wrist.

“You don’t deserve it either,” he had said. “The nightmares of the war and of you dying. What your relatives did to you? You didn’t deserve that either.”

And Harry shook and swallowed and nodded his head. “Goodnight, Draco,” he repeated. Draco still didn’t let go of him.

“If I’m a good person, then you’re one too Potter. You are the best kind of person.” Harry felt silent tears falling down his eyes and before he knew it, Draco had pulled him down and wrapped his arms around him.

Harry had cried harder, letting out sounds he never had before, and encircled his arms around Draco’s neck, nuzzling his head in Draco’s chest. Draco had let his hand trail up and down Harry’s spine, rubbing circles on his back.

He had let Harry listen in to the soothing sound of his heartbeat, which drummed in Harry’s ears, and Harry had fallen asleep listening to it, safely and in Draco’s arms, just as Draco had almost fallen asleep in his.

He could barely remember what had happened when he’d woken up in the morning. He and Draco had mumbled something incomprehensible to each other before Harry had stumbled into his room and Draco had headed into his bathroom.

Ron had looked at Harry smugly and had wiggled his eyebrows, but Harry had reassured him that they’d only talked and done _nothing_ else.

“Well, tell me when you do, mate,” Ron had said and Harry had groaned and entered his own bathroom.

Now, Draco was ignoring him. Harry was tired of his shit, Harry was going to confront him once and for all and talk to him. Harry felt Draco pass him by and slip something into his hand.

His heart skipped a beat and he waited until everyone was paying attention to the Auror who was teaching them, to unfold the piece of paper he’d been given.

_‘Meet me in the bathroom after our classes are over. You know which one.’_

* * *

 

Draco wished that Harry would stop, just stop hurting him like this, stop saying these words which were causing Draco so much pain, because how could Potter care so little about himself and so much about everyone else, so much about Draco? He really wasn’t deserving of Potter or his love.

“Potter,” he said, and the tears he’d been holding back, poured from his eyes, hotter than before. “You will never lose me _ever_ and you aren’t- you aren’t cursed. You still have Ron and Granger and the rest of the Weasleys, and Luna and all of your Gryffindor friends. You care about them, don’t you? And they are still alive.

You are the only good thing that has happened to me too, Potter and I just don’t understand how you can’t see that I would do the same for you. I would do anything for you, which is why I need you to stay, Potter. I need you to not leave because I am much too selfish for my own good, but you make me not want to be that way. And I want to be selfish with you; I want to be _very_ selfish with you.

And I need you to know that you are not alone, you never will be. You deserve to be cared for by others, just as much as you care for them. They _do_ care about you, _I_ care about you, a lot, and I need you to see that. I need you to see your true worth, Potter. I need you, okay, Harry?”

Harry nodded his head. “Okay,” he said, and buried his head somewhere between Draco’s neck and his chest. And Draco smiled for what felt like the first time in a long time, burying his nose into Potter’s untamable mop of messy hair. “Okay, Draco.”

Draco wanted to remain in that peaceful silence, but there was a question niggling him at the back of his mind and it wouldn’t leave him alone. It wouldn’t let him be. “Why didn’t you tell me that we weren’t supposed to be a secret?”

Harry finally pulled away and straightened up, almost at eye level with Draco. “What do you mean?”

“I thought that what we were doing and what we had between us was a secret, that we were supposed to keep it between us. I didn’t know that we were allowed to tell people. I didn’t know- I never thought you’d feel the same way about me, _ever_.” A lump grew in Draco’s throat and his eyes were wet again.

This time it was Harry who gently took a hold of Draco’s face and wiped away his tears, and he leaned forwards to brush his lips again Draco’s. “Well, I do, Draco, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“That- that time when we had sex on the sink, that was the first time- that was my first time,” Draco admitted. The words spilled from his mouth faster than the tears from his eyes.

“It was my first time too,” Harry admitted and the shock must’ve shown on Draco’s face because Harry added, “You didn’t really think it was just sex, did you Draco?”

And Draco couldn’t respond because he really _had_ thought it. “I just- I thought that…you know, people like you, and you have fans, so many…” Draco trailed off again.

Harry shook his head and he laughed, pressing his warm fingers into the sides of Draco’s face, pressing his lips to Draco’s, and then pulling back. “You were wrong, then, about everything.” And he smiled a genuine smile at Draco, which made his stomach flip.

God, he loved Potter so much.

He leaned towards Potter, pulling him closer so that he could kiss him properly, holding the sides of his waist as their lips slid against each other’s. And when they stopped and Potter pulled him onto the bed, to sleep next to him this time, and Draco wondered about Ron, “Don’t worry about him, he has the keys to our room,” Harry said.

And as Potter cuddled into him and Draco cuddled right back, because he didn’t want to be out-cuddled and also because he was feeling particularly cuddly at that moment, he also added, “And I need you too Draco, I hope you know that.”

And Draco smiled back at Potter because he did know that, with certainty this time, just as much as he knew that he needed Potter too. _And this time, it was in the same damn way._

* * *

 

Harry’s heart raced. He walked into the bathroom as soon as their classes were over with. Everyone was relaxing in their rooms before they had to meet in the halls to have lunch.

He turned as he heard the door close behind him. It was Draco. Harry couldn’t speak because the look in Draco’s eyes, the way he walked towards Harry, made him freeze.

He stopped mere inches from Harry. His hands were on either sides of him, forcing Harry to be pressed against the bathroom sink. Every part of their body was in close proximity, just a teasingly short distance away from touching.

Harry desperately wanted to change that.

“I need you, Potter,” Draco breathed and his fingers seemed to curl and press harder against the sink.

The back of Harry’s waist dug into it and he itched to reach out and touch Draco, to press their bodies together, to be in contact with every inch of him.

“I need you too, Draco,” Harry said, before he pulled Draco into him turning them around so that it was Draco leaning against the bathroom sink. And he pressed their bodies together, his hand slipping into Draco’s hair. _But not in the same way that you need me._

 


	2. Story No. 1-The One with Lots of Sex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic was basically a mix of two different stories I wrote and decided to merge because of an idea that I had growing somewhere in the back of my mind. So I am going to finally post these two stories differently for the people who might prefer it this way.

It started off in the worst way possible. They were both hurting, both hurt, both facing the brunt of the side effects from the war, the after effects of the war, both feeling the wrath of their emotions and the choices they had made.

They were both locked in the same bathroom again, but this time, Potter had Draco pressed against the bathroom sink, he had his hands slipping into Draco’s hair and Draco could feel it, could feel the moan trembling in his throat.

Draco’s eyes were closed, and his wand was tight and hard and in his trousers, this one of a different kind. Draco’s desperation showed, tension was palpable, and his need and want for Potter were already known by Potter.

That was why Potter had him trapped after a particularly grueling training session, in a bathroom so far away from the rest of the trainees, who were relaxing in their rooms in those moments, while Draco and Potter were willing to go another round.

It wasn’t as if they hadn’t known that they’d end up here. It wasn’t as if they’d both been subtle or anything short of extremely obvious in their glances or looks or…gestures. It wasn’t as if they’d ever been any different, even back at Hogwarts.

The tension between them had built and built up through weeks of Auror training and it had led to this. To Draco being sandwiched between Potter and a decently clean sink as if some sort of a delicious patty between two burger buns, or perhaps two slices of whole wheat bread.

It had led to Draco’s lips being pressed against Potter’s, feeling as if he were high on amphetamines, his hardened member pressing through his trousers against Potter’s which was equally so. Draco’s hands drifted along Potter’s body and froze, their lips parting as Draco let out a gasp.

Potter’s hand had unzipped his trousers. It had pushed them down and now Potter was on his knees. Draco struggled to stand upright, his hands tightly gripping the edges of the sink as if holding on for dear life.

Potter’s lips, his tongue, teased and licked and took in all of Draco, making noises he’d never even thought he was capable of, emerge from his lips. It made him lose his mind and feel as though he were on the brink of insanity.

He collapsed as he spilled all of himself into Potter’s mouth, watching Potter swallow him and take him in, knowing that it was his turn next to do the same, but in a different way.

Both their trousers were pulled down all the way, as they stood facing each other. Draco could feel Harry’s cock at his entrance, he was prepared. But then he entered and Draco realised that he wasn’t, he was not prepared and he never had been.

The sharp echoes of his voice were restricted to the insides of the bathroom, barred from going outside by the silencing charm put on it. Potter didn’t make a single noise, he only grunted, only thrusted, his eyes as unexpressive during sex as they were expressive in everything else. But in this, they were not.

Perhaps because everything else he loved, he was passionate about, but in this, about Draco, he was not.

“Draco,” he spoke, his voice as hoarse as his fingers were coarse. “I’m going to-” He shuddered. Potter’s face was buried in Draco’s shoulder, his hands holding Draco’s waist almost bruisingly.

Draco ached from the inside out as his eyes fluttered momentarily shut, feeling the pace of Potter’s thrusts and moving with the same rhythm. He could feel Potter breathing into his shirt, could feel his heat, his warmth, mingling with Draco’s own. He could feel the rising and falling of Potter’s chest and of his own.

He opened his eyes and looked at Potter. He looked at Potter’s messy, black hair sprawled all over his shoulder, looked down at his body, which fit perfectly against Draco’s. He thought of the way he felt about him, the way he felt when he heard Potter say his name in that hoarse, sex-drenched voice, and he ached again.

“Do it,” he said, his own voice soft and flowing like honey. Sweet, fond. “Let go, Potter,” he whispered.

He could feel his own muscles clenching, could feel Potter pushing up against him, going harder. He could feel his heart rate soaring up high, could feel his own mouth moving as it chanted a repetitive, continuous chain of “Potter, Potter, Potter.”

“Draco,” Potter breathed and Draco suddenly felt his warmth spilling inside him. He closed his eyes as his hands slipped from the edge of the sink and his knees buckled under him.

Potter collapsed with him, and they were both a tangled heap on the floor. Draco’s hands were spread out across the floor, his knees under Potter’s and head bent towards Potter’s body, hair falling on his face.

Potter was sleeping on the floor, his hands lightly resting on Draco’s hips. His eyes were on Draco with not a hint of emotion in them. Nothing. His lips were pursed tightly. He gave no indication of having felt a thing, of this being his first time, just like Draco’s.

Draco guessed it wouldn’t be surprising to find out that Potter had done this before, with many a willing participants. The thought made Draco feel sick to his stomach.

“I think we should,” Potter said, pointing to their legs, “sort out this mess.”

Draco agreed.

They were out of the loo and walking in opposite directions in mere minutes. Draco bit his lip and turned around to glance at Potter’s general form, walking away from him. The ache in his heart grew.

* * *

 

A knock on the door woke him up from slumber. Green eyes piercing into his when he finally opened it, made sure that he was wide awake.

Potter’s hands were in fists, a cigarette butt pressed in between two fingers. There was smoke still blowing from it. Draco could smell it.

He smelt it on Potter as Potter closed the door behind him and stepped into Draco’s personal space. He smelt it as Potter said, “I need you, Draco.”

He smelt it when Potter took a final smoke from his cigarette before letting it fall to the ground and stepping his foot on it. He felt it, the smoke, filling up his lungs, slowly damaging and destroying him, much like Potter, as Potter gave him an open mouthed kiss.

They parted and Draco let out a small cough. Potter’s hands were on him again and he felt warmth seeping into his cold body. He looked at Potter’s lips, tinged slightly grey, and then into Potter’s eyes.

“I need you too, Potter.” _But not in the same way that you need me._

Potter nodded his head, his expressions still neutral and unchanged. He pushed Draco onto his bed and climbed on top of him. He touched Draco’s shirt but Draco pulled his hands away. He flipped them around, making sure he was on top of Potter as he unbuttoned Potter’s shirt.

Potter let go of him, taking out a pack of cigarettes. He offered one to Draco who shook his head, choosing instead to latch his lips onto Potter’s bronze skin. Potter shuddered, but Draco wasn’t really sure if that was his reaction to Draco or the first drag of his cigarette.

He let his lips trail down Potter’s body, stopping near his trousers to look up at Potter. Potter’s eyes were on him, still unchanged and unblinking. He unzipped the trousers and continued on with his assault, pleasantly surprised when Potter arched upwards with a sharp gasp.

“Draco.”

Draco’s lips were wrapped around Potter’s member and Potter bucked slightly every time Draco took him in fully, holding tighter onto Draco’s sheets.

“Draco, I-”

“Do it, Potter. Let go.” And he did.

* * *

 

Draco lay in bed with his eyes closed. He could still smell it. Potter was smoking the cigarette as he lay right next to him.

He reached out to take it, opening his eyes and taking a pull. Then he coughed, and turned. Those green eyes were looking into his.

Draco took another drag, letting the smoke fill his lungs completely, feeling his eyes burning. He felt the suffocation, the pain, the inevitable coughing it would cause, and he wanted it.

He wanted to feel all of it so that he could remember, remember what it felt like to have Potter in his bed, all smokey breaths, half lidded eyes and ashen lips.

Potter took the cigarette from him and smoked it. He let out a puff of smoke and Draco watched it drift into the air. He watched it and felt a sudden urge take him over.

Sitting up, he put his hand through the smoke, creating a ring, a smokey, grey halo.

“Draco, what-” A startled laugh erupted from Harry’s throat. Draco faced him, a smile showing on his own lips. He looked on as Potter laughed, bright green eyes, a wide smile, his face lighting up and the noise feeling as if it had suddenly purified the room.

Potter blew another puff of smoke and sat up. He let it drift up and looked at Draco, as if expecting him to perform the same trick again. He did. He created another grey halo.

Potter blew it away though and before Draco could ask why, Potter had gripped Draco’s hips, quite mean if he was being honest. It turned Draco on a lot more than it should, and Potter pried his lips open, kissing him.

Draco let him, because there could be nothing truly better than this.

There was nothing better than kissing Potter, than the feel of his body against Draco’s. Skin against skin, tongue touching tongue, legs wrapped around legs and hands intertwined into each other’s, sweaty palm against sweaty palm.

Harry offered Draco a smoke from his cigarette. This time he didn’t decline it. He took it and stood up, walking over and leaning against the window to look outside. He saw Potter standing on the opposite end, doing the same.

They were close, but not enough. Draco stepped forwards and offered Potter his ciggy back. He took it.

Draco took in the darkness of the night sky, he took in the sounds of traffic and the people walking along the streets. He saw Potter taking a smoke, saw his breath fogging up the glass window.

Potter drew a stick figure on it and they both watched it disappear moments later. So Draco breathed onto the same area, gathering up more fog, drawing another stick figure. Their eyes met.

Harry bent down just as much as Draco had and he breathed out and he drew. They both drew. It was a story, of what they didn’t know. Was it happy? Was it sad? Was it them? Who knew?

But they stayed. They sat down on the edge of the window sill, one leg up with their toes touching, and the other leg down and swinging on its side.

They smoked, cigarette after cigarette until it was three am.

“I have to go,” Potter said, “I have to-” Draco nodded.

“Then go.”

The ache had grown and changed, it had transformed itself into something worse. Yearning.

* * *

 

Lips met, tongues swirled around each other’s. Potter was straddling Draco, grinding against him.

Draco had a hand on Potter’s lower back, and another around his neck, and Potter’s were holding, or rather gently touching, Draco’s face. They were kissing and breathing and touching, their hearts beating as one.

Draco pulled away and looked into Potter’s eyes, breathless. Potter didn’t look away, his lips parted slightly as he huffed out and sucked in puffs of air.

“You’re insane!” Draco remembered Pansy exclaiming.

He’d met with his Slytherin friends during the weekend and they hadn’t had to look twice to tell that something was different about Draco, something had changed.

“You’re acting a bit overdramatic Pans, don’t you think?” Draco had replied with a roll of his eyes.

“Actually, Draco, I agree with her,” Millicent had said. “Having sex in the bathroom, pressed again the sink, isn’t the way I’d want my first time to be, or any time to tell you the truth.”

“You must be crazy mad about this secret lover if you were willing to rut up against him anywhere near a dirty sink and let him have you in a bathroom which was probably in an even worse condition,” Daphne had added.

Little did they know….

“I’ll have you know that the bathroom was quite hygienic, and the sink was quite clean.”

“And the sex?” Blaise had cut in, “How was the sex?” Draco had gone completely red.

“It must’ve been quite good,” Theo had answered, “Tell us, Draco, did you go one round or several? Was it just that one time or did you meet up multiple times?”

Draco had smirked at all of the glances that had been trained on him. They had been very curious to know, but he hadn’t told them anything, _anything_.

“You realise,” Draco had said, “that I don’t have to fucking tell you anything, right? That’s the beauty of a secret. You know I’m supposed to keep it that way.”

“Well, whoever your lover is, he’s fucking strange. Stranger than you are.”

“Draco?” A thumb softly tracing across his bottom lip brought him back to the present. “You alright?” Draco nodded his head, looking into Harry’s eyes which seemed expressive for the first time since they’d…interacted.

He swallowed heavily. _What are we, Potter? What are we doing? Is this just sex? Are we ever going to tell anyone? Must it stay this way? Why?_

Draco was scared of asking, scared of being on the receiving end of Potter’s bluntly honest responses. He wished that he could ask Potter and just expect him to lie to Draco’s face, to tell him that they were something more, that it wasn’t just sex, that what they were doing wasn’t meaningless, that it meant everything to him, as much as it did to Draco.

But Draco would have to make do with what he had with Potter and the way that he had Potter with him.

He slid his hands up the hem of Potter’s shirt, trailing them up Potter’s body as he leaned into Potter’s ear. Potter whimpered into him, moaning his name softly, his hands fisting and crumpling up the shoulders of Draco’s shirt.

Draco released a light breath into Potter’s ear, making him shake and mumble a quiet, “Draco.”

He pressed a firm kiss underneath Potter’s ear and whispered, “Potter,” then he kissed Potter’s cheek, and his jaw, and his neck, and his collarbone. And he let Potter’s each groan and whimper and moan settle into him and turn into a memory.

He let all of the different ways Potter uttered his name sink into his very skin, wanting to never let them go. And his yearning grew.

* * *

 

Draco had Potter pressed against his bed and completely naked. Never in his wildest dreams had Draco ever thought that he could have Potter like this, so vulnerable and completely trusting.

Potter was looking up at him with those eyes again and there was no fear, not even a hint of hesitation, no second guessing, just utter and complete faith in Draco.

Draco stared back into those eyes. “You ready?” Potter nodded, his hand trailing down Draco’s shirt.

“Why don’t you ever take it off?” He asked. His voice was soft, a quiet whisper. Draco shook and swallowed.

He opened his mouth and closed it. “You know why.” Harry nodded his head and sat up before Draco could protest.

“I want you to take it off.” It wasn’t an order, it was a request. Draco’s body shook harder. “Can I take it off?”

He let out a breath that sounded more like a sob and felt fingers under his chin, lifting his face up. He felt lips, soft and pliant, pressing against his as he closed his eyes.

Tears gathered at the corner of his eyes and burned at them as the cigarette smoke had his lungs. “Please, Draco. I- I want to.” Tear drops fell from his eyes as he nodded his head and the lips were on his again, more insistent this time.

Potter’s hands held his face, fingers wiping the tears from his eyes.

They parted as Potter carefully began to unbutton Draco’s shirt. Draco opened his eyes to look down, his heart racing.

Harry’s hands stopped and trembled as the beginnings of Draco’s Sectumsempra scar started to show. “You were right,” he said, “Maybe we shouldn’t- I shouldn’t-” He dropped his hands and looked down.

Draco picked them up and put them onto his shirt again. “Continue, Potter. Come on, you’re not a quitter.”

Potter’s eyes widened momentarily before he nodded his head and continued. The shirt fell off of Draco’s shoulders and pooled around him on the bed, and Potter stared at his scars.

Draco stared too. Potter’s expressions were impassive as his fingers lightly dared to touch the scars. Draco had to remind himself not to flinch, to give in to Potter’s warm touch and his comfort, to his gentle reassurance.

“It’s so much worse than I expected.” And Draco flinched at Potter’s words. Harry’s eyes widened again, suddenly aware of what he’d said. “That’s not what I meant.” His hands were on Draco again, fingertips tracing the scars. “It’s me,” he said, softly, “I hurt you. I almost killed you.”

Draco found it hard to think, hard to swallow the bile rising up his throat. “I forgave you a long time ago.”

“You shouldn’t. You shouldn’t have. I don’t deserve your forgiveness,” Potter said and Draco was so close to breaking down in front of Potter again. He didn’t want to.

“I don’t deserve yours either Potter, but here we are,” Draco replied and before Harry could say another word, he kissed him.

He pushed Potter back onto the bed and pulled away, leaving Potter catching his breath. Draco was completely naked too now and he looked Potter in the eyes as he said, “Scared, Potter.”

Potter’s eyes were blazing, his lips in a smirk, same as Draco’s, and face reflecting the same confidence. “You wish, Malfoy.” And Draco entered him.

Harry arched into him, screaming his name, growing louder and faster the more Draco pushed inside him. They were both gripping tightly onto Draco’s silk satin sheets, the noises they were making, muffled in each other’s shoulders.

Draco’s hands clenched into fists as he thrusted harder, murmuring Potter’s name with each breath, and Potter took it all in, all of Draco, letting himself feel and open up. Letting Draco see him like that-vulnerable and completely trusting.

“Potter, I’m about to-” Draco started to say, but Potter cut him off, joining their lips together and letting their tongues touch.

Draco shuddered as he felt it coming, ending the kiss to lean completely into Potter. He grabbed onto the sheets harder and gritted his teeth, feeling Potter’s hands on his back.

And as he came, stronger than he ever had before, he called out Potter’s name in his ear. “Harry.”

* * *

 

They both ended up sitting at the edge of the window sill again, drawing stick figures in the fog. The fog was caused by the drop in temperature this time rather than cigarette smoke.

Draco was thankful for that. He was as far from the mood to smoke as he could be, Potter seemed to be feeling the same way. He seemed to be stuck deep in thought as he drew eyes on his stick figure, and a smiley face.

Harry could probably feel Draco’s eyes on him, which caused him to look up and Draco to look away. He knew that Potter hadn’t stopped glancing at his scars since he’d taken his shirt off.

He’d put the rest of his clothes on, but he’d let the shirt stay off. It had made him feel a sort of freedom he’d never felt before. Potter’s eyes on him, though, made him feel uncomfortable.

Just as he was about to mention it to Potter, Potter spoke.

“Draco,” he said, and his expressions were undecipherable, “I think we should stop this.”

Draco’s heart froze. “What- What do you mean, Potter?”

“I mean that whatever this is, whatever’s going on between us, I think it should stop. Permanently,” Potter said, and Draco’s heart shattered.

There were so many things that he wanted to ask Potter, so many things he wanted to say to him. He only said, “Okay.” He only watched as Potter walked away, only watched as he opened the door and closed it slowly behind him.

Potter hadn’t once looked Draco’s way, hadn’t once looked back, and Draco hadn’t once been able to look away. He stared and he stared after Potter, wondering.

He wondered if he’d taken too long, if he’d been too late. Wondered if he should’ve asked all of the questions in his mind, wondered if he should’ve told Potter how he felt.

He remembered the first time they’d done it in the bathroom, pressed against the sink, remembered thinking that Potter must’ve done it with many a willing participants before, that it was nothing new. He remembered the hole Potter had left in him, physically, and how that hole was now manifesting mentally.

He remembered the ache, the yearning, how it had always been there but he’d felt it distinctly in these last few weeks. Maybe he should’ve told Potter how he felt about him, how he’d always felt about him.

Maybe he should’ve confessed, should’ve admitted to Potter that he was in love with him, that he’d always been in love with him. But now it was too late and he’d taken too long and Potter was gone.

Draco wondered if Harry would find another willing participant, if he’d already found one, if that’s all Draco had been to him. But then he remembered Potter…Harry. Harry who walked like he was a God, but he’d let Draco turn him weak.

Harry with his easily readable eyes and his open sincere expressions, that beatific smile and the way he had allowed Draco to enter inside him, to feel him. And he thought maybe this wasn’t about him. Maybe it never had been. But did he really believe it?

Were they really anything more than a dirty, little secret, anything more than a nice fuck or two? Draco closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

He looked down at his scars and remembered Harry’s hands tracing them, could still feel the tips of his fingers trailing down Draco’s chest.

_I love you, Potter. I’m in love with you. Please come back, back to me. I don’t think I can- I don’t want to-_

_Please!_

* * *

 

Draco stared at his punching bag, hitting it hard. It moved backwards with the force of Draco’s punch. He wiped at his sweat-covered forehead with the back of his arm and hit the bag again, harder.

The bag moved further back, swinging with more force, making Draco do the same. He wiped at his chin, just under his bottom lip, with the back of his hand.

_“Draco, I think we should stop this.”_

_“What- What do you mean, Potter?”_

Weeks. They had been sleeping together for weeks. A few blissful, happy, short weeks. Draco should’ve known deep down that it would go wrong, that one day Potter would want to stop all of this nonsense and leave him.

That Harry would want someone else, someone who was worthy of him, someone who-

A hand settled on his shoulder, halting his thoughts. _Please let it be him. Please let it not be him._

“Draco.” It was not Potter. He turned around, wondering whether he was hallucinating.

“Weasl- um- Ron,” Draco nodded at him.

“You need to speak to Harry.” Draco blinked.

“I don’t understa-” Ron cut in before Draco could finish his sentence.

“I think you do,” he said, “Whatever has happened between you two, I need you to sort it out. Harry- Harry’s not being himself these days, he isn’t acting like himself. I'm begging you Draco, just please make this right. Let him be fine, make it alright.”

Draco was still confused, still too stuck on the fact that Weasley was asking _him_ to make sure Harry was okay. “What exactly do you think has happened between Potter and I? I have not hurt him if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Ron scoffed at him. “Please, Draco, you can drop the act. I already know everything, everyone does. He told all of us about the first time you two kissed, and the first time you both had sex. He told us everything.”

“You- you know?” Draco was in shock. “I thought that it was supposed to be a secret, that it was supposed to be just between the two of us.”

“Well you thought wrong,” Weasley said, “and you clearly hurt him.”

“You think _I_ hurt _him_? He wanted this to stop!” Draco had had enough of Weasley trying to put the blame on him, enough of him trying to push Draco around. “I never- I never said _anything_ to hurt him. I _never_ hurt him!”

He was heaving breaths and was on the verge of crying, he could feel it. “What were you two doing before he told you he wanted to stop? Did you say something to him?”

“Weasley, can you stop? I said _nothing_. I did nothing. Just leave me alone. It was he who told me that he wanted to see my scars before we had sex, that he wanted to see me shirtless.”

 The words just came out of Draco as he closed his eyes. His vision was blurring and he could feel the beginnings of a pounding headache.

“Your Sectumsempra scars?” Draco nodded his head. “Oh.”

He opened his eyes to see realisation dawn on Weasley’s face. “You need to talk to him. He’s hurting.”

“Weasley, I told you-”

“I know, Draco, I get it, but you’re wrong.” Draco glared sharply at him, all too ready to speak, but Weasley continued. “He didn’t want to stop because of _you_ , this has nothing to do with you.”

“Then why? Why would he just…” _Leave?_

“You’re smart, aren’t you Malfoy? You were top of our class at Hogwarts and you know Harry better than any of us do, just like he knows you better than anyone else. Go and talk to him, figure this out. _Please._ ”

Ron patted Draco on the back, gave him a quick smile and then walked out of the gym. Draco couldn’t help but worry about the concern in Weasley’s eyes, couldn’t help but wonder how desperate Ron must’ve been to come to Draco and say _please_ , to ask him for a favour.

_“I mean that whatever this is, whatever’s going on between us, I think it should stop. Permanently.”_

_“Okay.”_

Draco turned to his punching bag and hit it. His knuckles started to bleed.

* * *

 

Draco knocked on Harry’s door. He knew that Weasley out with Granger so Harry had to have the whole room to himself. It was the perfect time to go talk to him really.

He knocked on the door again, irritatedly. “Just open the fucking door, Ron, you have the keys!” A muffled harsh voice filtered out of the door.

“I’m not him Potter,” Draco answered, and all of the noises from the other end of the door stopped. “Potter?” Nothing. “Open the door. _Please._ ”

He didn’t know why he added the please and why he was so worried. Potter had left. _Potter_ was fine. It was Draco who was hurting, Draco who wasn’t doing alright.

He was in constant pain and he knew that it wouldn’t fade, that nothing would make it go away except for Potter. And Potter wasn’t opening the door, and now Draco was angry.

“Fuck it,” he spoke under his breath and took out his wand. Several seconds later, he walked into Potter’s room. His breath had left him as soon he did.

Potter was sitting on his bed. Calling him a mess would be an understatement, he seemed half dead.

“Potter?” Draco dared to speak.

“Draco,” Harry said and his voice broke. Before Draco had even realised it, he had crossed the entire distance between them.

He didn’t even have to think about what he did next. He sat on Harry’s bed, and held his face in his hands.

It felt warm, a bit too warm. Harry let out a breath.

“Draco,” he murmured, “you’re always so cold.” Draco flinched at his words, heart squeezing. He didn’t realise he was pulling his hands away until Harry pulled them back. “I like it. I like you.”

Draco stopped breathing. He couldn’t register what Harry was saying, couldn’t believe it. Harry had to be sick, he had to be running a fever, that would explain why he was acting so delusional.

“Potter, what is wrong with you? What happened?” Draco asked. He needed to know, needed to know what had happened so that he could make it better for Harry.

“I miss you,” Harry said and Draco straightened up, his hands dropping.

What Potter had just said didn’t make sense. Nothing did. How had Ron known about what had been going on between them? Why had Potter told everyone else about it?

Draco had thought that it was just a fling for Potter, that it didn’t matter to him, that he just wanted the sex, that Draco was just his nemesis turned sex buddy/pity project from Hogwarts. Nothing more.

“Then why did you leave?” It was Draco’s voice that broke this time. _“Why did you leave?”_ He felt hot tears burning in his eyes, threatening to spill over. He couldn’t do this anymore, he couldn’t. “Were you ashamed of me? Is that it? Was it just the sex, Potter? Was I just another fan willing to fuck-”

Draco stopped as soon as Harry started crying, regretting putting Harry in pain. But he _needed_ to know. He took Harry’s face in his hands again, gently wiping away the tears that continued to fall as Harry looked down. “Answer me Potter,” Draco said, his voice calm. “I need to know.”

“No,” he replied through the tears. “You weren’t just- You were _never_ just- How could you even think that?”

And Draco’s heart soared at the words, as those green eyes finally looked up into his, and Draco saw a determination in them. Now was the time to say it, Draco knew that. He had to say it before he overthought it, before it was too late again. He needed to tell Potter the truth.

“Well it was never just that for me either, Potter. I love you and I have loved you for so, so long, which is why I need you to tell me why you left.” Potter’s lips moved but he made no sounds. “What was that?”

“I left because I care for you Draco, and I don’t want to lose you. I already hurt you once, I almost killed you because of my stupidity. What if I- what if I do it again? What if I really, really hurt you Draco?”

Suddenly, Ron’s “oh” started to make a lot of sense to Draco. “Potter, Harry, why would you think that? I told you I already forgave you for my scars. It was a mistake; we were both young and stupid.”

“No!” Harry exclaimed and pushed Draco away, starting to straighten up himself, Draco didn’t let him. He pulled Harry into a hug and didn’t dare to loosen his grip until he felt Harry sobbing into his shoulder.

Then he let his fingers push into Harry’s hair and let his other hand trace down Harry’s arm to wrap around his hand. He felt Harry’s breathing hitch when he did.

“You don’t understand,” Harry spoke into his shirt. “I’m cursed. I lose everyone I ever care about. They always die, _always_. My parents died, Sirius died, Remus died, everyone just keeps on dying around me, and when I died, I was brought back. I wish- Instead of them-”

“Potter!” Draco roughly pulled him up and made Harry look into his eyes. “Don’t you ever dare-”

“I love you too, Draco, I have for quite a long time, and I never realised just how much until I realised that I didn’t want to lose you. I never want to lose you and I don’t want to lose what we have because- because it’s the only good thing- only good thing- and I feel like-”

Harry paused and took a deep breath. “I feel like now that it’s gone, I can’t be happy again. But I- I just want you to know that if it came down to it, I’d always make this choice, I’d always leave.”

Draco wished that Harry would stop, just stop hurting him like this, stop saying these words which were causing Draco so much pain because how could Potter care so little about himself and so much about everyone else, so much about Draco? He really wasn’t deserving of Potter or his love.

“Potter,” he said, and the tears he’d been holding back, poured from his eyes, hotter than before. “You will never lose me _ever_ and you aren’t- you aren’t cursed. You still have Ron and Granger and the rest of the Weasleys, and Luna and all of your Gryffindor friends. You care about them don’t you? And they are still alive.

You are the only good thing that has happened to me too, Potter and I just don’t understand how you can’t see that I would do the same for you. I would do anything for you, which is why I need you to stay, Potter. I need you to not leave because I am much too selfish for my own good, but you make me not want to be that way. And I want to be selfish with you; I want to be _very_ selfish with you.

And I need you to know that you are not alone, you never will be. You deserve to be cared for by others, just as much as you care for them. They _do_ care about you, _I_ care about you, a lot, and I need you to see that. I need you to see your true worth, Potter. I need you, okay, Harry?”

Harry nodded his head. “Okay,” he said, and buried his head somewhere between Draco’s neck and his chest. And Draco smiled for what felt like the first time in a long time, burying his nose into Potter’s untamable mop of messy hair. “Okay, Draco.”

Draco wanted to remain in that peaceful silence, but there was a question niggling him at the back of his head and it wouldn’t leave him alone. It wouldn’t let him be. “Why didn’t you tell me that we weren’t supposed to be a secret?”

Harry finally pulled away and straightened up, almost at eye level with Draco. “What do you mean?”

“I thought that what we were doing and what we had between us was a secret, that we were supposed to keep it between us. I didn’t know that we were allowed to tell people. I didn’t know- I never thought you’d feel the same way about me _ever_.” A lump grew in Draco’s throat and his eyes were wet again.

This time it was Harry who gently took a hold of Draco’s face and wiped away his tears, and he leaned forwards to brush his lips again Draco’s. “Well, I do, Draco, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“That- that time when we had sex on the sink, that was the first time- that was my first time,” Draco admitted. The words spilled from his mouth faster than the tears from his eyes.

“It was my first time too,” Harry admitted and the shock must’ve shown on Draco’s face because Harry added, “You didn’t really think it was just sex, did you Draco?”

And Draco couldn’t respond because he really _had_ thought it. “I just- I thought that…you know, people like you, and you have fans, so many…” Draco trailed off again.

Harry shook his head and he laughed, pressing his warm fingers into the sides of Draco’s face, pressing his lips to Draco’s, and then pulling back. “You were wrong, then, about everything.” And he smiled a genuine smile at Draco, which made his stomach flip.

God, he loved Potter so much.

He leaned towards Potter, pulling him closer so that he could kiss him properly, holding the sides of his waist as their lips slid against each other’s. And when they stopped and Potter pulled him onto the bed, to sleep next to him this time, and Draco wondered about Ron, “Don’t worry about him, he has the keys to our room,” Harry said.

And as Potter cuddled into him and Draco cuddled right back, because he didn’t want to be out-cuddled and also because he was feeling particularly cuddly at that moment, he also added, “And I need you too Draco, I hope you know that.”

And Draco smiled back at Potter because he did know that, with certainty this time, just as much as he knew that he needed Potter too. _And this time, it was in the same damn way._

**Author's Note:**

> I'm aware that this fic has a lot of smoking and cigarette scenes involved so I want to do my part and say that I am strictly against it and do NOT approve of it at all. Smoking kills, cigarette smoke damages our lungs and affects the people around us. It can cause cancer. 
> 
> The only reason I have it mentioned in the fic is because the song and its lyric in particular called for those scenes. I do not mean to show it in a positive light and it is NOT COOL! I hope I've made that clear enough. 
> 
> Thank you for reading this and I hope you've enjoyed the fic.


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